Blaze
by voidinski
Summary: Ashton, ever since finding out about the supernatural, has been afraid of her own shadow. And her brother, though protective, has a lot more things to worry about than his paranoid sister. But even through new creatures popping out of each corner, a deadpool, and the drama between her and her friends, she manages to find love.


"You're a werewolf." I stated, turning my head towards my older brother's best friend, Scott. He pursed his lips.

"A hunter?" I asked Allison, who stood closely next to Scott. "Close. I'm in a family of hunters." She corrected, looking up at her boyfriend.

"You're a psychic?" I looked at Lydia, who was a close friend of mine and my older brother's. She shifted her eyes from me to the floor. "Something like that." She answered.

"And you." I turned to Jackson, who rolled his eyes. I only knew Jackson because his mother used to babysit me, which means I knew how much of a snob he could be. "You're also a werewolf." He nodded like it was obvious.

A sighed, my eyes gazing over all four of them, and my brother. Stiles smiled sympathetically at me, like I was some sort of victim.

He stood up strait from where he leaned against my bedroom wall, then sat next to me on my bed and put his arm over my shoulder. I couldn't help but want to shove him away. To scream and yell at these insane people that their were crazy. Deranged. Mad. Off their rockers. But I stayed still.

I always just stayed still.

I shook my head at myself, my jaw stiff. Because all my life, I was the girl who was okay with everything. The girl my brother needed to protect because of how helpless I was. The girl I didn't want to be anymore.

I pushed Stiles arm off of me, looking up at him. He furrowed his brow.

"I won't just sit here and listen to you all drive me insane!" I shouted, standing up. Scott, who I had known for my entire life, walked towards me cautiously.

"Ash. Calm down. We're telling the truth."

"No! No you're not!" I shrieked, looking around my room for something to break. I pulled my hair angrily, my eyes abruptly stopping when I saw the half empty mug of tea I had left on my nightstand the previous night.

I had grabbed it and chucked it against my mint green walls, the glass of the cup shattering and scattering all over my floor.

"Stop!" I bawled. "Stop it!"

I didn't know who I was talking to. The people who surrounded me, looking at me with worried and shocked expressions from what I had just done. Or the voice in my head, telling me that I was going crazy.

All of the sudden, my hands were grabbed and I was thrusted against a wall. I was face to face with Scott McCall, with hair growing from his cheeks by the seconds and claws that clung to the wall, making it hard for me to escape his grasp. His glowing, golden eyes bored into mine.

Before I could cry or scream, he growled loudly right in my face. I felt too weak to turn away, to fight back, to kick or punch or anything. We were centimeters apart, making the lump in my throat grow bigger by the second.

I had never been more afraid in my life than in that moment.

I suddenly sat up drastically, gasping. Tears ran down my face, and I attempted to control my breathing.

It happened again. Another nightmare. This one was no different than the other ones I've been getting ever since my friends announced my their true identities. Some of the dreams were more real than others, and this one was no exception.

It always began with how it actually went down. The intervention. And then, suddenly, my subconscious would create something terrifying to finish it off. It was different every time.

How it truly ended was Scott showing me, in a much more calmer way, his werewolf self. I had cried at one point, not even able to look at him by the time he left the room. It was all kind of a blur, like the real thing actually was a dream.

But I'm constantly reminded that it really happened. With my brother coming in before and after school, sitting at my bedside, and talks to me like I'm going to talk back to him. And my father, who is absolutely clueless, and probably thinks that this is his fault. That he treated Stiles better than me. Every time I think about how oblivious he is, how heartbroken he seems, I feel like crying.

But it doesn't take much for me to cry these days.

I had woken up in a cold sweat, my sheets damp but my half naked body shivering. And that certainly wasn't normal in the slightest during early May in California.

Beacon Hills, California, that is. The town that seems to draw in supernatural creatures more than a cartoon dog get's drawn in by a T-bone steak.

For the past two weeks, my life has been full of nightmares. Alseep or not. I tried to keep my door locked, and it worked for the first two days after they told me the truth. But it wasn't long until Scott did one heavy shove and the door bursted open.

Everybody comforted me, the victim feeling remaining everytime somebody came up here. Which consisted of Scott, Lydia, Allison, Stiles, my father, and Scott's mother. All of these people cared about me, I knew that. But none of them understood that it didn't matter how much tea they brought me or whether or not they rubbed my back when I was half asleep. I wasn't comfortable anymore, and I don't think I'll be comfortable ever again if the images that are left in my mind.

I felt bad for Scott, though. He was like another older brother to me, and now I couldn't bare to look at him. I was so afraid of him, even if he was in his human form. He's probably never felt so ashamed, me not even being able to so much as glance at him without seeing him as this horrifying creature.

And the worst part was, it felt like I couldn't speak to anyone about this. I couldn't tell them how I felt or how much I ached being so scared every second of everyday.

I sighed, running my fingers through my tangley hair. My oversized t-shirt fell off one shoulder and my hair that had once been a neat ponytail was now nothing but a rat's nest.

Pulling the cover off of me, I stood up for the first time in the past 48 hours. My legs were cramped and felt like I was about to fall over, but I remained standing.

I looked to my nightstand, where there had been a full waterbottle sitting. But it was tipped over and the cap was off, nothing but a drop left. I exhaled somewhat loudly, realizing how dry my throat was.

My fingers grazed over the skin my neck, contemplating whether or not my thirst was worth going downstairs to grab another water bottle.

Just go, I thought, you know how everybody in this damn family is a heavy sleeper.

Just to be sure, I stuck my head out and intently listened for any footsteps or creaks in the floor. I faintly heard my Dad's obnoxiously loud snores. I couldn't help but smile and roll my eyes, realizing how much I truly missed him.

Luckily, the coast was clear. The wooden floor felt freezing to my bare feet compared to the carpet in my bedroom. I refrained from shivering and tip-toed downstairs, into the kitchen and to the refrigerator.

I snatched up three water bottles this time, since I didn't want to come down here again and that was the most I could carry without constantly thinking that I would possibly drop one on my journey back to my bedroom.

I shut the fridge with my foot and turned around, only to find Stiles leaning against the doorframe. I gasped, dropping all three water bottles. In the blur of focusing on returning to my bedroom, I had failed to notice that one of the bottles were half-full and the cap was half-on.

"Shit." I hissed rather loudly, my scratchy voice (due to the lack of talking) echoing through our quiet house. Water spread all over the kitchen floor as I rushed to grab the paper towels. I got down on my knees, struggling to capture all of the water before it spread any more. I glanced at my brother, who had bent over to help me.

By the time I was done there was fairly large pile of soaking wet paper towels and a still kind of damp tiled floor. I leaned back against the fridge, exhaling and closing my eyes.

"You okay?" He asked, which was possibly the worst thing he could've said to someone as overwhelmed and anxious as me. I attempted to shoot a deadly look at him, which wasn't much. Stiles sighed, pushing the paper towels aside and sitting next to me. I was too tired to get up and walk away.

I fumbled with my fingers, staring at them like they were the most important things in the world. I slammed my eyes shut, two tears falling from my eyes. "No." I finally answered.

"What's wrong, Ash?" He asked after a moment. I chuckled instantaneous to his simple question. So many, many things were wrong right now.

Tell him, my subconscious told me. You'll feel so much better when you do.

"I can't sleep without thinking that something's gonna attack me. An evil werewolf, a kanima. I just." I paused. "I can't get these thoughts out of my mind."

I stared at the floor, pulling my legs closer to my chest. "I can't even look at Scott anymore. Did all of you react like this?"

Stiles shook his head. "Lydia was a bit frightened at first, Melissa was the worst though. She stayed in her room for a few days, avoiding Scott as much as possible, kinda like you."

"Yeah, but I can barely leave my room to get a water bottle without thinking that some monster is going to attack me." My breath was shaking almost as much as my hands.

"I can barely fucking breath, Stiles." I whispered.

There was a long pause between the two of us. That was the thing with Stiles, no matter what has happened between us, our silences are never awkward. Always necessary.

"Everything's going to be alright." He assured me. "It always has been like that for us. No matter what we're going through, we're gonna be alright."

"I don't know." I mumbled. "Maybe not this time."

He suddenly stood up, and faced me again, sticking his hand out to help me up. I reached for it, hesitating a bit before grabbing it and pulling myself onto my feet.

And for the first time in too long, he hugged me. I smiled, something I also haven't done in a long time, and hugged him back.

"I love you." He muttered.

I closed my eyes, hugging him tighter. "I love you too."


End file.
